


Red- The Color of Desire (by Ponine and Sebloob)

by PonineSheKnowsHerWayAround



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Enjolras - Freeform, Gay Sex, Granjolras, Grantaire - Freeform, Les Miserables - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, NC-17, Oral, Oral Sex, Smut, cannon time period, enjoltaire - Freeform, exr - Freeform, grantaire and enjolras, les mis smut, les miserables smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PonineSheKnowsHerWayAround/pseuds/PonineSheKnowsHerWayAround
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Co Written with http://archiveofourown.org/users/sebloob</p><p>Enjolras and Grantaire are caught up at the Les Amis late one night.  Grantaire agrees to walk a very exhausted Enjolras home, resulting in the beginning of a relationship that he will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red- The Color of Desire (by Ponine and Sebloob)

“Grantaire.” The voice sounds through the room with purpose as Enjolras’ heavy hand slams against the old wood of the table top. The pages of the books spread over its surface flutter from the impact, paper crinkling as the blonde runs his palms over the printed word to smooth it. His lips are pulled into a tight pink line, lightly chapped from hours of concentrative biting, but not in a way that might mar the beauty he never quite acknowledged he had. If he had acknowledged it, of course, one might never know. His attention was paid outwardly only to Patria and her people, and – on the odd occasion - Grantaire’s apparent inability to help the cause. “I’ve told you time and time again to put the bottle down. Do you care so little for the freedom of this country that over and over again you disobey my warnings?”

Grantaire chose not to answer. Of course, Enjolras wasn't fully aware of Grantaire's true interests that lie within his attendance to the Cafe Musain. He took one more long sip, then dramatically banged the bottle down on the table in front of him. "Happy now?" He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes off of the other boy.

Enjolras' lip curled up in a bit of a sneer, eyes cool and narrowed as he gazed upon Grantaire. The bang of the bottle made papers flutter again, but Enjolras ignored that. Instead, he reached across the tabletop to procure the bottle, taking a long and rather smug sip of it himself before twisting to prop it on the counter behind him, out of Grantaire's reach. "Ecstatic." He rolled his eyes as he patted his pages again. "Grantaire, you asked me here to help with your studies. I would very much appreciate if we kept to our agenda."

"Did I?" Grantaire couldn't even remember. Time and time again, Grantaire would ask for something from Enjolras, just to be near him. His eyes traveled down to Enjolras's jaw, down to his neck, to the place where his coat tightly hugged his waist. "But why waste the wine? It's all here, isn't it? Besides, you look like you need a break. I think you've been staring at that map long enough."

This time when Enjolras sighed, it was a sound of resignation as he sunk into his seat, hand running down his face. It was hot, and the other bodies within the Cafe only served to make it hotter. "Freedom, Grantaire, does not take breaks." He chided, though he knew he had lost this battle. At times it seemed better to give in and humor Grantaire than to allow him the opportunity to drag along his point. Enjolras sat for a moment before giving yet another heaving sigh and handing the bottle back to his comrade, the bottle cool in his warm palm. "What do you propose we do, now that you've won your little battle?"

"Well," Grantaire sighed. "When's the last time you've slept?"

Enjolras took pause at that, brow furrowing. "I'm certain I got at an hour or two last night."

"Certain, or are you lying to me?"

"What use have I for lying, Grantaire?"

Grantaire eyed him and his expression softened into a calm smile. "Because you know how much I care for your well being." He said.

Enjolras scoffed. "I could do with a bit less of your mocking, M'sieur. You care no more for me than you do our cause."

Grantaire rolled his eyes and looked down, fearing that Enjolras would never understand why he came to the cafe day after day, why he always looked after Enjolras. Why he was always there by his side. "I'm not mocking you. I'm just trying to..." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Never mind. My apologies. I'll try to be less of a burden next time we meet, my Apollo."

Grantaire's lack of confidence in his words and the way he fumbled over them was uncharacteristic at best, leaving Enjolras with a furrowed brow. "Grecian references, my friend? And to Apollo no less." He gave the warmest smile he could manage to the other male, reaching out to clasp a hand around his wrist. "What are you trying to do, Grantaire? Speak to me."

Grantaire pulled his wrist back in surprise, and stood up, feeling heat rise to his face. He looked away. "I'm not doing anything." He denied. "Maybe I should go. I'm not needed here, not really, am I? Not tonight?"

Enjolras frowned and withdrew his hand, letting it fall to his side. "Grantaire." The name was it's own complete thought from the Leader's mouth as he looked up at the flustered student with wide eyes. "If you wish to leave, leave, who am I to stop you?" Despite the words, the voice was soft and almost wounded by Grantaire's sudden desire to rid himself of Enjolras' company.

Grantaire's lips parted and a small whimper escaped his throat. He clenched his fists and stared at his leader, not sure of what to say. "Am I a burden by being here, my friend?" He inquired after a long moment of silence.

"Only if you believe you are." Enjolras' jaw hangs slightly slack a moment before it tenses considerably. He swallows and once more grabs for the wine and takes another long swig - anything to relieve the tension of the moment.

A feeling of stinging pain crept over Grantaire, realizing, yet again, that Enjolras didn't care for him the same way. He couldn't have counted the times he had fallen for the leader, only to be let down. He hoped that the hurt he felt didn't show on his face as he sat down, crossed his arms, and said nothing to Enjolras, knowing that he would wait for him anyway.

Rising to his feet, Enjolras gives a hesitant look around the Cafe before stepping forward. His hands once again find Grantaire's wrists, prying gently until the folded arms are pliable. He places them at his friend's side, and whispers gently, so that only Grantaire might hear "Stress not, my friend. You are no burden to me here. Understand my lack of patience is not towards you but towards the swine who run our country to the ground. Perhaps I must get better at handling that."

Enjolras's closeness made Grantaire feel dizzy. The lack of space in between them is maddening, and Grantaire nearly shudders at the blonde's touch. He licks his lips. "It is possible that a little bit of sleep may clear your head. It is crowded and hot, and surely you are not in any condition to be working." Grantaire sighed. "Perhaps it is time for you to turn in for the night."

The Leader of their band of students chuckles and shakes his head slowly. "I am fine, Grantaire. The heat is maddening, but I am more content here with my brothers than I could be alone in my room. For one who cares so little, you certainly worry too much."

Grantaire ignored his leader's comment, and rose his voice. "You need sleep, Enjolras."

"And if I refuse?" There's a playful edge of Enjolras' voice as a brow raises slightly, a silent challenge.

Grantaire shook his head, feeling extremely tired himself. "Don’t make me carry you. I don't want to, but I will."

"Need I bother to dare you?" It was odd, to take a moment to enjoy this jest with his companion, but not unwelcome.

Grantaire stood and smiled. "Who do you think is the stronger man?" He played, knowing it was most likely Enjolras indeed.

"Don't ask stupid questions, Grantaire." Enjorlas smirked, one hand propped on his hip, the other laid on the table. "Go on then. Carry me if you think yourself so capable."

Grantaire's eyes widened. His leader was permitting Grantaire to touch him. Grantaire swallowed hard. "All right, then." He stepped forward and slowly wrapped his arms around Enjolras's waist, burying his own face in the leader's chest during the process. "Jump up and put your legs around my waist." His muffled voice grunted. "I can hold you. I am strong enough I think."

Enjolras had hardly expected Grantaire to make good on his proposal. His eyes widened but he let out a small laugh and allowed himself a moment of reprieve, legs tangling as they were instructed. "I hope so. Drop me and you will regret it...any dirt on this coat and you'll be washing it until it shines!"

Grantaire lifted Enjolras with a gasp, slipping his hands underneath the blonde's thighs. With success, Enjolras remained hoisted up. Grantaire leaned into his leader's neck, feeling its warmth, feeling giddy at its touch. He began down the stairs of the cafe Musain. "Do you need to be carried like a child all the way back to your home?"

Glancing down at Grantaire at his words, Enjolras laughed, the sound bright and nearly giddy. "Alright, alright, I suppose not. You can put me down if you wish." He beamed, giving Grantaire a squeeze.

Grantaire hesitated, but set Enjolras down once they were out on the streets of Paris. He did not stray, however. He wished to stay with his leader as long as he possibly could...as always. "Is there anything I may do for you before you take your leave?"

Enjolras hesitated a moment before slinging his arm around Grantaire's shoulders. He pulled him in close and began to walk. "Walk with me, Grantaire." It was certainly not a request, but it didn't hold the same power as most of his orders did. "I could use the company."

Grantaire tried to contain his excitement, but he was sure it showed through. He smiled and looked down, nodding, seeming to shrink under Enjolras's arm as they went. "Would you like me to make some tea when you get home? I'm sure you should relax for once." Grantaire suggested, wanting very much to take care of his leader. If there were two things Grantaire was good at, it was drinking, and looking after Enjolras.

Another laugh. "My mother may not appreciate you dawdling near her kettle, but some tea could be nice so long as you agree to have a bit with me. Drinking alone certainly doesn't seem the way to end a night." He gave a side-eyed glance to Grantaire at that, but found himself intent on keeping his friend close rather than fighting yet another battle over his drinking habit. "Either way, yes, your companionship would be appreciated."

Grantaire smiled, realizing that he hadn't even given a thought to Enjolras's mother. Her was more concerned with the face that he would be in Enjolras's very home, and it was one of his fantasies to share a late night drink with his friend. "Whatever you wish. I'll stay as long as you want me to...and as late as your mother will permit."

Enjolras' mother was used to late visits, though she often urged them to head back down to the Cafe if too many callers came at once. He expected no one else to come that evening, so Grantaire's presence would likely go largely unnoticed. "You are being oddly compliant this evening. Are you sure you're feeling well?" Enjolras joked - it was strange, how easily this side of him slipped out, all while still remaining entirely too serious for his own health.

Grantaire looked down again. "I'm fine. Really, I am. It's just nice to get out of that cafe for once. I just want you to be able to get some rest."

And truth be told, walking with Enjolras, Grantaire had never been so happy in a long time. He had never, however, been so nervous either.

"I am plenty well rested, Grantaire, but thank you." They arrived at his house not a moment later, and Enjolras was quick to open his door, holding it wide for Grantaire to enter the modest flat.

"Doesn't seem possible." Muttered Grantaire, stepping inside, but quickly moving to the wall, not wishing to intrude on Enjolras's home.

Enjolras stepped inside quickly after and brushed past Grantaire and into the home, door closing soundly behind him. "Come, this way. We'll go upstairs and into my room. At least that way we might not disturb the others."

Grantaire nodded and trotted quietly behind Enjolras, watching his every move. He was lead into Enjolras's quarters. Again, he remained pressed back against the wall, not sure what to do or where, exactly, to go.

“You needn't be so jumpy," Enjolras chided gently, shaking his head as he closed the door to his quarters behind them and sunk onto the bed. He began to unlace his boots, one at a time and slipped them off. "There's a bit of wine on the shelf just there, and some glasses." He pointed. "You're welcome to it."

Grantaire's eyes widened, and the previous feelings of happiness turned to panic. He didn't move. "I'm fine. I'll just...be here." He shrugged.

Shaking his head, Enjolras leaned back against his bed with a sigh and ran his hands over his face. "Come sit, at least, Grantaire."

Grantaire nodded and slowly made his way to Enjolras's bed, sitting down next to him. He told his mind to stop acting up. He tried to stop the thoughts rushing through his head, but everything he could see, feel, and think was simply Enjolras. He looked down to the side and blushed, praying his leader wouldn't notice.

Peeking through his fingers, Enjolras grinned. "Grantaire, your face is as red as I've ever seen it!" He gasped with a laugh. "Have I made you uncomfortable?" Enjolras sat up and elbowed his friend gently, before whisking off to get the wine, pouring them each a fair amount in one of the mugs beside the bottle. He moved to hand one over to his friend. "Come now. Drink with me."

Without a word, Grantaire took a glass and drank it down, feeling utterly humiliated. Part of him wanted Enjolras to look away, but then he would only want his attention once more.

Grabbing the bottle, Enjolras filled Grantaire's glass again before placing the bottle carefully on the floor beside his mattress. Eyeing the deep red in his own glass, Enjolras raised his glass. "A toast to... us. You and I, here, tonight."

Grantaire managed a smile and tipped his glass to Enjolras's. "To us." He whispered. 'Forever,' he thought to himself. He slowed down his drinking, not wanting to startle Enjolras. He took a ship and then a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, licking his lips, trying very hard to keep his eyes off of Enjolras. But he couldn't resist staring at the blonde as his lips met the glass, reddened with wine. "It's nice like this." Grantaire admitted. "It's nice to be away from the others...just us."

Enjolras took a long sip, eyes flickering up over the rim of the glass at his friend's words. He grinned. "You are beginning to sound a bit like Marius, my friend." He teased, pulling back to lick his lips contentedly. "But yes, it is. I enjoy your company when you aren't being entirely insufferable."

Grantaire rolled his eyes and took another sip, yet he just couldn't relax. Even his teeth began to chatter a bit. "Don't compare me to such a woman." He joked back, trying to ignore the fact that he was shaking all over.

Setting his mug down, Enjolras laid a hand on Grantaire's quivering shoulder. "Are you cold, my friend?" Of course, Enjolras couldn't see how, regardless, he slipped off his red coat and draped it over Grantaire's shoulders with only a moment's hesitation. "Is that better?"

Grantaire gritted his teeth. Didn't Enjolras understand that that would just make everything worse? He inhaled, and Enjolras's sweet scent was suddenly surrounding him. "Thank you," He stammered, not knowing what else to say.

Grantaire was being impossibly polite tonight, and that in itself only served to worry him. Slightly concerned and worried that the poor boy might have a fever, he leaned in press his own cool lips to Grantaire's sweating forehead. No fever, it seemed, but Grantaire still seemed shaken. "What is it, Grantaire?" He queried. "I've never seen you like this."

Grantaire shuddered at Enjolras's touch and mindlessly, he swatted the boy away. "I told you I'm fine." He snapped.

A bit of a scowl crossed his features, as he threw Grantaire's own line back at him. "Are you certain, or are you just lying to me?"

Grantaire felt undeniably guilty. "I'm sorry." He said, bowing his head. "That was most inhuman of me. Please accept my sincerest apology."

"I do not want your apology, Grantaire. I want to know what has you as... shaken as you are." Enjolras insisted.

Grantaire closed his eyes, not sure if he was going to be able to lie or drink his way out of this predicament. "Leave it be." He pleaded.

Unfortunately for Grantaire, Enjolras rarely let anything that caught his attention be. "I want the truth, Grantaire."

Grantaire's lip trembled. He stood up and walked across the room, back to the wall once more. He said nothing. He just stood there and looked at Enjolras. Staring. Marveling.

Enjolras was left in his place, staring back at Grantaire. "Grantaire," The name came again, lingering in the air, demanding and pleading all at once.

Grantaire swallowed and sadness filled him, knowing that whatever he was to say, he would be rejected. Grantaire sunk to the floor, hugging his knees like a child and didn't face Enjolras when he said, "I'm in love with you. So stop touching me. Stop staring at me. Stop talking to me, dammit, Enjolras. You can't keep torturing me like this."

Grantaire's words struck nerves that Enjolras did not know he had. The blonde sat a moment, his own hands shaking as he clutched his wine. It was with a great deal of hesitation that he put the glass on the floor and moved to where his friend was curled on the ground. He bent, lingering a moment before he reached his hand out and brushed fingertips across the other's cheeks. "You are in love, Grantaire? With me of all people? What a foolish thing to say." His words were gentle and almost caring. A small laugh falls from his lips. "More foolish, perhaps, is the fact you kept this secret. You torture yourself, my friend." He moved in a bit closer. "Do not hide from me, M'sieur. Doing so will grant you no kindness. Look at me."

Slowly, Grantaire raised his head to look at Enjolras, who was close. Very close. Grantaire did not have the means to breathe. He waited a few moments before even attempting to speak, watching Enjolras as he slowly raised his arms to cup the blonde's face in his hands. "I can't help it." He stammered. "No matter how foolish it is, I cannot believe that it is my fault. I can't help but to blame it on you, my friend, as you are the one who drives me so mad. Yet I know you do so with no intention of stirring my affections.

Enjolras smiled gently at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You can give into madness, if you like." The blonde permits. "For I am so easily and readily within your grasp now, it would be a shame not to take advantage of a moment so opportune, don't you think?"

"I could never, no matter how much I may want it." Whispered Grantaire. "You deserve...so much better."

"Grantaire," Enjolras rested a firm hand over the other boy's. "When we go to fight, when the barricades arise, our blood will spill for our country - I know this, I accept this. I am not worried about what I deserve. I never have been. You know this as well as any other." He gives Grantaire's hand a reassuring squeeze. "But who am I to deny one who is so loyal to me of what he desires?"

Grantaire felt a single tear roll down his cheek. He said nothing, but gently leaned up to kiss the blonde. As their lips met, Grantaire felt as though he were on fire. With one hand touching Enjolras's cheek, he moved the other one down to clutch at Enjolras's coat collar.

Enjolras tensed a moment as the lips hit his own, but readily allowed himself to be pulled into the affectionate touch, his lips moving slowly in time with Grantaire's. His free hand moved to slide into the thick dark locks of his companion's hair, tangling into the nest of curls easily as he leaned in close.

Grantaire shuddered as he felt Enjolras’s hands on him; every thought in his mind took flight as he breathed softly into Enjolras’s mouth, clutching onto him with fear of letting go. When he was away from his leader, Grantaire felt constantly lost. His life was cold and broken, and he saw no hope unless Enjolras was near. Wrapped in his tight embrace, Grantaire felt his soul on fire for the very first time. “Enjolras.” He whispered in between kisses. A part of him wanted to apologize. He wanted to apologize for loving his friend and he worried about what Enjolras thought of him; if Enjolras liked him. But the way Enjolras pulled gently at his hair made Grantaire only want to clutch on more, pushing his worries back until they were completely silent.

The way Grantaire leaned in and pulled him closer was enough to draw a similar reaction from the blond. Every sigh of his name echoed through the space between them -- it was too much space, the leader decided after another moment. He sank more completely to the floor, drawing the other male into his lap in two small, forceful tugs. This time it was Enjolras who spoke, a quiet hum of “Grantaire,” passing between them as he drew away. “Is this... is that what you wanted?” This concept of physical affection was foreign to the one-track minded male who had so often referred to France as the only Mistress he longed to keep. For him love was a poet’s dream, not a revolutionary’s reality. Perhaps, for Grantaire he could make an exception.

Grantaire moved his hands to clasp Enjolras’s shirt at the waist, pulling them as close as they could possibly be. Grantaire would not tolerate any space left between them. All he wanted to feel was Enjolras encircling him, pressing up against him. Grantaire traced his lips along Enjolras’s jawbone, and moved down to his neck. He kissed gracefully at Enjolras’s collarbone, inhaling him, moaning, stopping every now and then to make a confession. Grantaire’s came one after another: “I love you, Enjolras.” He whispered, then moved his mouth down to the blonde’s throat, kissing gently. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He moaned moments later. He made his way back to his leaders mouth, and kissed it with passion and without hesitation. He clasped Enjolras’s face in his hands as their lips clashed between guilt and need, and Grantaire finally answered Enjolras’s question: “Yes.” He whispered. “You are all I could ever want, but yet all I can do is need every inch of you.”

It was physically impossible, Enjolras found, to not arch upward into the lips against his jaw and the protrusion of his clavicle, body aching for the closeness their new position provided. It stung Enjolras a bit that he could not honestly reciprocate Grantaire’s proclamation, not so soon at least, so he focused instead on the pleasant tingle that rippled through him with every wanting sound the other made. His fingers trailed lazily down the line of Grantaire’s spine, the coarse fabric of his clothings scraping lightly against the pads of his fingers. The boy’s jaw fell a bit slack at the next words as they came, eyes a bit wide. “And when you say need, Grantaire, what is it that you mean?” Enjolras felt a bit silly in his current situation, toeing a line between highly informed and utterly clueless. “There are too many meanings to such a word.”

Grantaire leaned his head back and groaned in frustration, and a feeling of utter bliss being shattered by an urgent longing trembled throughout him. He brought himself to face Enjolras once more and kissed him again and again until Grantaire felt that he might burst. He gently bit at the leader’s lower lip until they both couldn’t help but to smile slightly, and Grantaire nestled himself closer in Enjolras’s arms. “Please.” He said, with a lack for better words, or for any words at all, knowing still that Enjolras would press him until he was told exactly what he wanted to hear.

Enjolras was quiet and entirely content with melting into kisses without pause or a moment’s hesitation as he waited for Grantaire to gather his wits enough to respond. The longer he waited, however, the less likely it seemed any sort of real response would come. The keening tone of his companion’s ‘please’ should have been enough of an answer in and of itself, but for once it could be truthfully said that the bold and seemingly fearless leader was at a loss. Never before having been in this situation, and quite intent on combatting any similar urges from his mind, Enjolras simply stared at the boy in his arms - for Grantaire seemed more a boy than a man curled up like this - with a furrowed brow and pursed pink lips.

“I don’t know what it is you’re seeking from me now, Grantaire. Tell me. Show me. But know that I cannot give you what you desire until you do.”

Grantaire bit his lip as he fumbled with one of the buttons on Enjolras’s shirt. He kissed his lips and then unbuttoned another, then kissed him again, until Enjolras’s shirt hung loosely open, and Grantaire was staring up at his companion as if asking for permission, not sure if Enjolras would understand. Not sure he Grantaire himself, understood either. He kissed his lover again, pulling Enjolras’s shirt down from his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around the heat of the blonde’s chest. Grantaire suddenly felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

Understanding seemed to hit Enjolras when the shirt fell open against his chest, each punctuating kiss he was afforded burning hot and heavy with meaning against his lips. Grantaire was looking at him with pleading eyes, asking Enjolras for permission he didn’t know how to give. He opened his mouth with the intention to speak but no sound came forth, save a small whine he hadn’t meant to make. The blonde swallowed, nervous, but allowed Grantaire to remove the shirt, fabric pooling around his wrists as armed encircled him. “Grantaire,” The name came once more, more breathy and much quieter than the last time he had called it.

Even Enjolras could not deny that the darker haired male looked beautiful like this, eyes hooded with desire and lips kiss swollen and wet. Enjolras managed another whine, though that seemed all he was capable of before his hands were twisting once again into Grantaire’s hair. He drew him upwards and meshed their mouths together, taking true dominance for the first time. His body knew what it was doing, and he let instinct take the lead as he nipped lightly at the other’s lip, tugging it lightly between his teeth before letting it go. Kisses resumed immediately, growing in intensity with each moment - experienced or otherwise, it hardly felt right to let someone else take the lead.

Grantaire felt boiling hot under Enjolras’s commanding touch. He moaned into the mouth of his lover, and he writhed within Enjolras’s arm whenever any sound of longing escaped the lips of Grantaire’s sweet companion. Grantaire groaned again and again, unable to contain himself while being caressed and kissed and wanted by the most beautiful man that had ever mattered to France, and the only man that had ever mattered to Grantaire. Without pulling his lips away from his lover’s, Grantaire hastily unfastened the buttons on his vest, pushing it back and throwing it across the room. He still felt unnaturally steaming under the thin material of his puffy, white shirt. Still, with one hand on Enjolras’s cheek and the other resting on his shoulder, Grantaire continued to kiss him. “Enjolras, please.” He moaned in between pecks. “Please, God.” He whispered longingly. “I love you.”

Enjolras moved forward, pressing his weight against Grantaire until the boy lay flat against the flooring beneath them. He hovered a moment before allowing his lips to graze down the strong lines of Grantaire’s jaw, mapping out the flesh as the other had done to him moments earlier. He nipped at the skin, lapping with the tip of his tongue at the tiny beads of salty sweat that rolled against burning skin. Sucked lightly, as he had seen countless others do at the throats of their lovers, pulling back with an obscene sounding smack of his lips to admire the angry red and purple that bloomed furiously against Grantaire’s neck. His tongue trailed against the blemish and downward still, to trace the curve of the collarbone that revealed itself from beneath Grantaire’s shirt. Enjolras worried another mark into the flesh, fingers making haste with the buttons of his comrade’s shirt until it lay open, fanned out on their side of the boy. It was then he pulled up, casting an admiring glance down at his handiwork as his chest heaved with breaths he’d nearly forgotten to take.

Again, Enjolras stayed silent at the proclamation of love, fingers sliding down Grantaire’s sweat slicked chest and stomach. “I believe God has little to do with what is transpiring between us, Grantaire.” He tutted softly, leaning in to steal another, more chaste kiss. He gave another adoring stroke of his lover’s chest, fingers taking a moment to trace out his navel. “What is it you call me? Apollo?” He smiled, almost teasingly. “Perhaps it is him you should be pleading to.”

Grantaire looked up at the ceiling above him and let out a small chuckle, although Enjolras’s caress against the darker haired boy’s abdomen made Grantaire shudder with pleasure and nervousness. Grantaire shivered although he felt as if he were on fire. He placed his hands on Enjolras’s thighs that were straddling at the drunkard’s hips. “You’re not going to make me plead, are you?” Grantaire whispered, grinding his hips up against Enjolras, wanting more. He bit his lip and let out a long, cruel moan as he rubbed his hands up Enjolras’s thighs until they reached the waistband of his trousers. He traced his fingers on the skin right above the waistline of Enjolras’s pants, whispering his leader’s name again and again as he slowly writhed under Enjolras’s light weight. Unable to resist, he allowed one hand to travel up Enjolras’s chest, sliding against his soft skin until his arm was extended. He reached up to trace Enjolras’s lips with his fingers, locking eyes with his lover. Grantaire had never felt such desperation and excitement in all of his life. He gripped Enjolras’s hips as he lay on the floor before him.

Enjolras was more aroused than he would have liked to admit, at least half hard beneath the suddenly tight fabric of his pants. It only seemed to worsen when fingers traced above the waistband, lower lip quivering as whimpers spilled from his mouth, slipping off his tongue without abandon. “I wouldn’t dare,” He responded before he could stop himself, though past the undressing he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His mind wracked itself for information, passing comments picked up from the others about such acts. It was perfectly clear what Grantaire wanted here, but Enjolras was left clueless as to how to go about it. He weighed his options as he moved to tug at the slacks his friend wore, sliding them inch by inch down Grantaire’s legs. Hip bones displayed themselves proudly, jutting out and staring sinfully up at Enjolras who had to take a moment to appreciate the sight. He traced them out with his tongue, first the left and then the right, reveling in the muskier taste of the flesh here as opposed to the skin of Grantaire’s stubble-laiden neck.

Finally the pants were down to Grantaire’s ankles, leaving Enjolras perched on top of the careless one’s thighs, staring at the exposed body beneath him as fingers trailed across skin, teasing everything but the length of flesh that seemed to need his attention most. He could feel Grantaire quiver beneath the ministrations, and the thought that he could prompt such a reaction was empowering at best. He smiled as his cheeks flushed. He leaned in, fingers still dancing against the skin of Grantaire’s thighs, hips, and stomach. His tongue flicked out lightly against the shell of the other’s ear as he breathed hotly against it. “What do you want from me, Grantaire? Tell me what you want and it can be yours.”

Grantaire moaned loudly as he felt Enjolras’s lips against his ear. While his arousal was evident and pressing against Enjolras’s straddle, Grantaire blushed, feeling completely exposed. He thought it was, perhaps, a guilty thing to enjoy it so much. “I want your love, Enjolras.” Grantaire responded. “I want to hear my name escape your lips in a scream, and I want you to keep touching my like this forever.” Grantaire bit his lip and moaned again as the blonde grinned down at him, and Grantaire seized his head and forced him down into a long, hungry kiss before rolling him over until Enjolras lay underneath him. He straddled the blonde and planted kisses on his neck, sucking and nipping as he traveled down to Enjolras’s chest, his navel, his abdomen, until he was kissing, flicking his tongue over the plot of fabric that rested above Enjolras’s crotch.

Sparks shot through Enjolras’ every extremity, burning him more and more with each lingering kiss and each drag of Grantaire’s tongue against his skin. He sighed, fingers scratching at floorboards before settling comfortably in the hair atop his newfound lover’s head. Digits twisted against dark-coloured curls and lingered there, static except for the reflexive clench and release that came along with the shots of pleasure racing through him. When he sighed Grantaire’s name this time, it was louder, bolder, and laced with need he could not define or explain. Whatever it was Grantaire had in store, Enjolras was his for the taking. “Anything you want. Just -- please, do not stop.”

Grantaire grinned, hovering above Enjolras. He gripped Enjolras’s hips tightly, kissing his thighs gently. “I have no intention of stopping.” He promised, kissing his way back up Enjolras’s abdomen until he was level with the blonde once more. He leaned down to Enjolras’s wet lips and kissed them hungrily, their tongues swirling softly in time. “That is,” he whispered, “If you are sure you will permit it.”

Enjolras found himself baffled that anything so simple as a few kisses and caressing touches could send his mind into such a frenzy, and though he had his doubts at first it became easier and easier to melt into the sensation and simply enjoy it. Grantaire’s lips were as swollen as his own, glistening in the dim, fading light that peeked through the open shutters of Enjolras’ window. He found himself nodding, eyes closed and lips parted in response to Grantaire. “Yes. I will permit it. I will permit anything.”

Grantaire groaned in response and nuzzled his face in Enjolras’s neck, kissing it, tasting his sweet skin, biting it gently. His skin, still burning, was covered in goosebumps, and every hair on his body was standing on end. “You want me to make love to you, yes?” He whispered, a gentle smirk on his face. He kissed Enjolras’s eye, then his ear, then his forehead. “Tell me what you want.” He begged. “I am yours as long as you will have me. I have said it before, my Enjolras- I am in love with you. I long to be with you.”

Enjolras whimpered softly, once more at a loss for words of his own. “I want-- want that. You. To make love to me.” The syllables cluttered together on his tongue and struggled to fall from plumped lips but managed all the same. Enjolras knew, that this could be dangerous; emotions made people sloppy. Emotions could ruin everything. But for Grantaire, for once, Enjolras decided he would take the chance. His fingers ran down the other male’s chest until they came to brush against the thatch of dark hair at the base of Grantaire’s cock. His hand lingered a moment before taking Grantaire’s length in his hand. He stroked once, experimentally, marveling in the heat of the flesh in his palm. “I am yours, then. For so long as you will have me.”

Grantaire did not recognize the voice that escaped his mouth, but he cried out in response to Enjolras’s touch. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, arching his back, until another cry sounded from his lips. “Enjolras,” He gasped, gripping the blonde’s long, wavy locks, pulling slightly. “Enjolras, yes.” He said, with no specification as to what he was saying yes to. Yes, I will have you. Yes, I want to sleep with you. Yes, I want you to keep touching me forever and forever. “Yes.” He repeated in a whisper, until one particularly intricate jerk from Enjolras’s hand caused Grantaire to wail amidst the feeling of pleasure, yet searing intensity.

These noises of pleasure were something that Enjolras could easily get used to. The way it made him feel to watch Grantaire’s face contort into the sensation of pure pleasure was entirely too enticing. He loved the way his name sounded on the other’s lips and mourned each syllable as it faded out into silence. He arched into Grantaire before dropping his hand from the steady stroking rhythm he had started to tug at his own pants. Surely the journey they were about to embark on required full nudity from both parties. Enjolras was hard already, more-so than he expected. He smiled slightly at Grantaire, pulling him in for another kiss. “I want you,” Enjolras breathed. “I want you to do to me whatever you wish. I want more of this pleasure, and more of you.” His hand encircled Grantaire’s cock again and stroked slowly. “Now, Grantaire, please.”

Grantaire was breathing heavily and very loudly, his back into the floor, he reached up to touch Enjolras’s cheek. “Oh, God, yes.” He moaned. He leaned up for another loud, lazy kiss and flipped Enjolras over on his back. Gripping Enjolras’s thighs, he ran his own tongue down his lover’s chest until he reached Enjolras’s cock. Taking it in his hand slowly, he looked at Enjolras’s handsome face, wanting very much to please the blonde. Wanting everything to be perfect- for Enjolras if anything. He kissed the head of Enjolras’s cock before taking in its length only to release and lick down the shaft. He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut as he took Enjolras’s large cock into his mouth once more, sliding his lips up and down its length, one hand reached up, toying, his fingers tracing Enjolras’s abdomen.

The noises Enjolras had been working so hard to conceal tumbled forward without question or worry as Grantaire’s hot mouth sank over him. Whether Grantaire had done this before or not was anyone’s guess, but Enjolras was not about to complain - it wasn’t as though he had anything to compare it to, after all. Tiny whimpers bubbled past his lips, fingers once again taking their place in the thick tuft of curls, messy spirals tangling around his digits. His toes curled and his head tipped back as he sighed the other’s name, pleading wordlessly for that which he could find no proper way to request.  
The amorous noises revealed by Enjolras were like music to Grantaire. The drunkard continued in his act of passion, but strained himself to keep his eyes locked with his lover’s. Grantaire tried to contain his own excitement, but moans of wanting volunteered themselves against the darker haired boy’s will. He moved both hands to the outside of Enjolras’s upper thighs, gripping them with need as he continued to watch the blonde. To Grantaire’s gratification, Enjolras did seem to be enjoying it. Grantaire watched him lose himself in the pleasure of the fondling, his body reacting to the way Grantaire sucked Enjolras greedily.

There was little grace to be found in the way that Grantaire bobbed his head, but an act like this required more tactical skill than it did any sort of elegance. Enjolras’ fingers tightened against the unceremonious mop of curls, tugging lightly, guiding Grantaire’s lips up and down his length. The pleasure spiked through him, coming in ripples and then in waves. He could feel the way his wayward lover’s cheeks hollowed around him and the gentle press of the tongue on the underside of his girth. Senseless babble fell from his lips, a litany of obscenities piercing the air in hushed, gasping tones. Grantaire’s name littered itself among his seemingly endless prattle, whispered like a ghost of something wonderful among the harshness of Enjolras’ swears.

Grantaire, raised his head and released Enjolras momentarily, against the will of the blonde. “You like this, yes?” He whispered with a smile. Enjolras had made it quite evident, but Grantaire wanted to hear the words for himself. He wanted to hear more of Enjolras’s beautiful voice, as he was ungenerously marveled at the sound of his own name of Enjolras’s lips, but his desire for Enjolras continued to grow. He flicked his tongue over the head of Enjolras’s cock before taking the entirety of its hardened length back in his mouth once more, groaning shamelessly, rubbing his hands over the blonde’s thighs, then digging his fingers into his lover’s hips.

Grantaire was rough with Enjolras, and that was something that the blonde could appreciate. Grantire’s voice was heavy, low and gravelling as he pulled away from Enjolras, eyes dark and half lidded. Enjolras could not hide the embarrassingly broken-sounded whine that rang through the room as the sensation of a hot mouth sliding against his needy skin was taken from him. His lips curled downwards into a slight pout as he nodded. “I do. I like it -- I love it.” It was barely a moment later that Grantaire seemed pleased enough with the response he received to go back to the task at hand. Enjolras sighed appreciatively and arched his hips up into the waiting depths of his lover’s mouth. An undeniable heat was beginning to pool in the blonde’s core, the need for release creeping up on him steadily. “Grantaire,” He sighed for the umpteenth time, his voice taking on a sense of urgency and need it had not before possessed.

Grantaire moaned loudly at the sound of his own name, and he simply could not get enough of Enjolras’s swearing, pleading, and groaning. Each cry shot sparks throughout Grantaire, clouding his mind with a giddy sort of light-headedness, as if he were drunk on Enjolras alone. Moaning, he fastened his pace, bobbing his head faster over Enjolras’s cock, his tongue moving in time. His nails dug into Enjolras’s hips with a need to make Enjolras cry out. A need to hear him wail out Grantaire’s name. Damn whoever may hear- Grantaire was where he had wanted to be for so long. And he was very, very happy, and determined to give Enjolras the pleasure he deserved.

“Grantaire, I’m going to-” The sigh of ecstasy was lost to the pleasure of the steady rise and fall of the other’s head and the harsh scrape of nails against skin stretched taut over jutting hipbones. His head rolled back, lips parted as once more - for the final time that evening - the other’s name passed from between them. It was louder than any of the cries before, and high enough in pitch that Enjolras’ voice cracked as he called out for the one between his thighs. He tugged at the roots of Grantaire’s hair as he came, falling completely undone in a way he’d never before experienced.

Grantaire grunted, lingering over Enjolras’s cock as he came, swallowing him down. He continued to suck gently until Enjolras was silent, lying back on the floor, chest rising and falling heavily. Grantaire licked his lips as he steadied himself over the blonde, leaning down to plant one more long, passionate kiss on his mouth. Grantaire was truly lost. Not in the sense that he was unable to be found, but in the sense that nothing existed anymore, not with Enjolras around. His lips moved gently in time with Enjolras’s, both men shaking and tired. Grantaire’s eyes fluttered open and he looked down at his leader.

Grantaire’s mouth was bitter with the flavor of Enjolras painting every inch, but the blonde still kissed him happily in time, stealing gasping breaths between lazy kisses. He drew his head back to look at Grantaire through tired eyes. “Should I --” He fingers brushed the flesh of the dark-haired one’s hip in inquiry. “Do you want me to?”

Grantaire stroked the side of Enjolras’s face and eyed his every feature, unanswering. At a loss for words. He just smiled slightly, feeling unbelievably numb and pleased to see a tired yet happy Enjolras. He bent down and kissed him again, then leaned back up just to look at him. To study him. His expression did not change. Grantaire’s face was still full of a gentle contentment.

Enjolras stared up at Grantaire, eyes soft and lips slightly parted. He let Grantaire pet him gently, the other male’s hand cool in comparison to the burn that still lit up every inch of his flushed and sweaty skin. They laid there, Enjolras tangled and still nude beneath Grantaire until Enjolras’ breathing had returned to normal and his mind began to unfog. He hesitated a moment before sliding out from beneath the other’s weight. He stood and moved to grab for his slacks, blinking more than necessary as he pulled them on. “Grantaire, that was- it was...” He fumbled for the proper word as he closed the fastening of his pants and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll...erm.” It wasn’t like Enjolras to be at such a loss for words.  
He swallowed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Café, won’t I?”

Grantaire blushed and hastily reached for him own trousers, pulling them on quickly as he fumbled around for his shirt. He cleared his throat as he stood. “Yeah.” He coughed. “I...I’ll see you then, I suppose.” He lingered for a moment, staring into his leader’s eyes, questioning, but not daring to ask, as if, ‘Did I suddenly do something wrong?’ He didn’t quite understand why Enjolras was quickly ushering him out, but he did not need an explanation.

Enjolras knew his sudden parting words would come across badly, so he pulled Grantaire in for another kiss, this one stronger and more sure. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Grantaire. I just need to think. I will see you tomorrow.”

A small smile returned to Grantaire’s features and he nodded. “Until then, Enjolras.” He turned out the door, placing his shirt on as the descended quickly down the stairs. It was not until he was halfway home walking on shaking legs that he realized he had left his vest in Enjolras’s room. He smiled and kept walking home.


End file.
